


Into the darkness we ride

by Adi_mou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Sherlock, F/M, Khan/Molly, khanolly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adi_mou/pseuds/Adi_mou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus would pay, and Sherlock would ensure it. Star Trek Into Darkness AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue/Before Darkness:I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> I thought I'd post this here too. Because of reasons.

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

It was a shock to wake up.

His chest felt like it was on fire, his skin was burning, and his body shuddered uncontrollably.

“Good morning, Mr. Singh,” a voice cut through the haze, and Sherlock was confused, brain still in the process of booting up. “Glad to see you finally awake.”

* * *

_**Before Darkness: I**_

* * *

 

Marcus was going to pay.

Sherlock would grab that bulbous head of his and crush it, with his bare hands. And he would not flinch; he would gloat.

Yes, Marcus would pay. For everything he had subjected Sherlock to since the moment he was forced to wake up.

There had been 84 capsules frozen in stasis inside his ship. Only 73 had survived, if the accounts he had hacked into were to be believed.

There were only 72 in sector 31. The 73rd capsule, the capsule containing the one person who mattered the most to him, was no longer in service.

Because that person was sitting right in front of him.

“Sir,” Molly said, or the woman Molly thought she was said. “Thank you so much for your insight on my work-,”

Sherlock was not listening. He drank her in, the sight of her, alive and well but not  _whole_ , this woman who called herself Marla McGivers (he would laugh at Marcus’s unimaginative tendencies if he was not so  _angry)_ , this woman who was his Molly, but not at the same time.  

He wanted to touch her, feel the softness of her skin, smell the vanilla in her hair, and taste her sweet lips again. He  _ached_  for her, the only friendly, familiar,  _loved_  face in a world that was no longer his.

“Uh…sir? Commander Harrison?”

He closed his eyes briefly to prevent her from seeing the flash of pure loathing he felt at her saying  _that name._  The name that Marcus had given him, a name that always reminded him of the servitude he was forced into.  “Yes, Mo- Marla?”

“Um…I’m sorry, I…never mind,” she bit her lip and he held back a groan at the gesture. “Thank you for your help, and I must be going now.”

She stood up and tugged at the ridiculously short skirt of the cadet’s uniform. When he would be King again (not under the name of Khan or Harrison, but  _Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes_ ) maybe she would wear something like that, in the privacy of their rooms, with her memory in place and her hands roaming the familiar paths of his body.

“I see,” he said now, trying to reign in his thoughts of simply throwing her over the table right now and burying himself inside her with the thoughts of Marcus’s blood staining his hands. “May I ask where you are going, Cadet?”

“Admiral Marcus asked to see me.” She said with such joy and hope that, if he had been a lesser man, he would have smashed in the sim-wood of his desk, before carrying her to his rooms and locking her in with him, where no Marcus or power hungry, corrupt admirals could get at them.

“-I think I may be up for promotion, that’s what my instructor has been saying, oh I do hope I get the Enterprise-,”

“Well, Cadet,” he interrupted, managing a smile. “You mustn’t be late.” If she was late, Marcus would know where she had been. Marcus always knows. Marcus would hurt her.

“But I was wondering, maybe later, when you are finished,” he continued smoothly. “We could have dinner and coffee later?”

He needed her company or he would go mad.

Even this version of her company, horrifying yet familiar, was better than no Molly at all.

She turned a bright red, her pupils dilating and her breathing increased rapidly, he noted with no small pleasure.

“Ye-yes, of course. I’ll be seeing you, Commander.”

“Until we meet again, Molly.”

He was supremely pleased to see that she did not correct him as she left. He would break the hold Marcus had over her mind sooner or later. Maybe sooner, if he could get his work done.

He twisted the ring on his finger, and a slow, some would say malicious, smile grew on his face.


	2. Before Darkness:II

* * *

**_Before Darkness: II_**

* * *

Thomas Harewood was so easy to manipulate.

Three hundred years had passed, and yet the human error remained the same. Marcus was a fool to overlook it. To think he would not take advantage of it. To think he would not use every ruthless trick he knew to get back everything, his family, his friends, his  _Molly._

The man formerly known as Sherlock Holmes, but now known as both Khan and John Harrison, tugged his coat closer to him and took a deep breath. Three hundred years but London was still home. Even the stench of the disinfectant from the hospital, still clinging to his coat, could not take that away from him.

Even though his moment of respite lasted barely seconds, he felt the guilt crawling back up his spine. Molly was still under Marcus’s clutches; her mind no doubt being ravaged and destroyed. He had already lost his crew- family- to Marcus; they were gone, gone for his slight in letting the Admiral get wind of his plans, he only had Molly and now he was wasting time admiring the view.

Back to work.

* * *

 “John!” Molly’s sweet, familiar voice greeted him, using a name that belonged to his old friend. He stepped into her Spartan, Starfleet issue flat, letting the door hiss shut behind him. He was mildly annoyed to see that Marcus had not the courtesy to give her a flat more suited to her, Molly’s old flat in the long ago past was a cheery place, a sunny yellow bedroom and a warm blanket to wrap around them both.

“Umm…” she bit her lip when he did not greet her back, standing stock still at the entrance as he was, eyes fixed upon her. “I made some coffee, if you would like some-,”

He crossed the room to stand in front of her, so quickly she barely had time to blink. He was close enough to feel the warmth of her body, close enough to count the constellation of the light dusting of freckles across her nose, close enough to drown in her eyes.

He leaned down slowly, enough to give her warning about what he was about to do. She did not stop him, and their lips met in a chaste kiss.

It felt more like coming home than a goodbye.

Not goodbye forever, goodbye until he had seen Marcus’s blood scattered across the floor, until the red stained his hands that he could never wash it off.

 He would be damned forever, but he knew she was his salvation, she would always forgive him, cleanse him of the blood Marcus had forced him to spill.

* * *

 He had not intended to sleep with her, no matter what this was not  _truly_ Molly, this was Molly with her brilliant mind locked up and ravaged by Marcus, but once he had kissed her she had kissed him back, and he had been unable to stop until their clothes were scattered piles on the floor and they were on her bed.

She had cried out  _John_ when she had come, but he had been too far gone to care. Soon, she would be  _screaming_ his name in ecstasy again, like those times in Baker Street when he came home from a case and lost himself inside her.

He had bitten her neck when he came; trying to lay some sort of claim on her while stifling his urge to call her true name. She had fallen asleep soon after, and he rested his head on her soft breasts, unable to stop the tears that spilled from his eyes and onto her skin.

He clutched her to him until it was time for him to leave, kissing her sleeping mouth as he rose from the bed, searching for his clothes.

Thomas Harewood should be near the Museum by now. He glared at the table lamp on Molly’s nightstand, where he knew the surveillance camera would be located.

 “ _Shall we begin_ ,  _Admiral Marcus?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll try to update soon, and please, leave a kudos, comment, anything!  
> Love,  
> Adi x


	3. During Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend I was smart enough to remember Marla McGivers, okay?

Seeing Molly aboard the _Enterprise_ had been an unwelcome, unsurprising shock.

Of course Marcus would do this, bring her here, and incinerate her along with his family. Sherlock would be a bit flattered for being sent the _Enterprise_ but this entire crew is naïve and oh so vulnerable, chinks in their amour so visible to anyone caring to look. He could easily break Kirk down, but he knew exactly where to appeal to Kirk, a man with a strong sense of justice and family.

He had not counted on Marcus himself arriving to meet them, though. But Sherlock had long learned to not to bother with minor details. This was a blessing in some ways; he could kill Marcus a lot quicker now.  All he needed to do was convince Kirk that the only plan of action was to storm the _Vengeance._

If he can stop being distracted by Molly first.

She’s studiously ignoring him, but her cheeks are red and there is a tremor in her hands. Sherlock knows, from countless experiences, that is a sign of anger rather than nervousness. The Chief Medical officer is completely obliviously, and Sherlock has to physically stop himself from launching at the metaphor-spouting doctor. Molly putters behind Doctor Mccoy, a glorified lab assistant transcribing his notes and occasionally checking on the other patients in the med-bay.  Sherlock watches as the doctor makes an inane joke that Molly forces a giggle for, until finally—

_“Bones, report to the bridge immediately—“_

_‘Bones’_ makes his way out, but not before giving Molly a smile that made Sherlock clench his fists from the strain of not launching himself at the man. And then, they are alone, Marcus’s daughter rushing out with the doctor.

Not alone, per se. There were enough guards in the room to pose a threat, and while Sherlock could fight his way through them if he tried, he was trying to establish a bit of trust with Kirk. He was formulating a plan on just how to get a few minutes alone with his Molly when she came to him on her own, waving aside the guards next to him with one flash of the medical hypospray in her hand.

She grabs at his arm roughly, pulling up the sleeve and pressing the head of the hypospray with unreasonable force against his skin.  He barely winces as his blood is swiftly drawn out. “Molly,” he starts to say, drinking in her closeness, her warmth, forgetting that she was not the Molly he knew.

“Marla. My name is fucking Marla, _John.”_ She hisses back, rage coloring her vocabulary. It only makes him want to crush her to him, to tip her onto the bed he was sitting on and lose himself inside her, claim her in front of all these men.  “Or is that even your real name?”

He looks at her, searching her eyes. He finds nothing but anger and hurt. “No, it is not. Just as Marla is not yours.”

“I heard them call you Khan. Is that your name?” She’s ignoring the main point here, but Sherlock is patient.

“No. It’s a title. It belongs to a much better than me, but for now, I’ll gladly use it.”

She makes to move away from him, but he latches onto her soft hand, discreet enough to escape the attention of the guards. “Molly, I—,”

“I’m Marla, can’t you even remember my name, _Khan?”_

“No, your name is Molly. You are Molly Hooper, you were born in the year 1979 to Arthur and Elizabeth Hooper in London, and I--,”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” she says shrilly, wrenching herself away from him. “I don’t want anything to do with you, you son of a bitch.”

He winces at the venom in her words. But _Marla_ isn’t done yet. “Take this murderer away,” she orders the guards. “I want him out of the med-bay and out of my sight.”

“I’m sorry miss,” the guard replies, scratching his thick head. Sherlock rolls his eyes at the stupidity that the man exudes. “But the captain ordered us to keep him here…Miss? Miss are you alright?”

Molly  had shut her eyes, cradling her head in her hands. Sherlock reaches for her but she slaps his hands away, turning heel and walking out of the med-bay, shucking her white coat off and onto the floor.

Sherlock wants to follow her, wants to hold her and gently bring back the Molly who loved him, but no sooner has she gone, the First Officer and his Captain are back, looking a bit confused and angry and _desperate._

He shoves thoughts of Molly back into her room in his Mind Palace, a difficult thing to do because she _is_ his Mind Palace. But he does so regardless—moping after her won’t bring her back, but playing these fools might.

They are actually begging for his _help._

_Sheep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transitional chapter, sorry my lovelies. longer update soon, I promise x


End file.
